The Ghost of You
by Kanon Anderson
Summary: “You know, I never understand why you left,” he said, his eyes glancing up at her. EO, not gonna lie...it's kind of sad. Thinking of turning it into a story...interesting either way.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Just a little something that'sbeen in my head for a few days. I'm thinkin' maybe a full story out of it. Anyways, it's kind of sad, forewarning. Let me know what you think :)

It was dark as he keyed into his apartment, the clock showing fifteen pasteight at night. Rain poured down outside, lightening flickering every now and then. Through the faint light that filtered in through the windows from the street lamps and the lightening, he could see her shape on the couch.

"Hey," she said as he flicked on the lights. Her soft brown eyes watched as he shed his overcoat, hanging it on the hook in his closet.

"Hey," he said softly. He wasn't surprised to see her. It wasn't the first time she had appeared in his apartment.

"Rough case," she asked, watching as he moved to the kitchen to grab a beer.

"Don't wanna talk about it," he said, popping the top off and returning to the living room. "Why are you here?" He stuided her for a moment before moving to sit down in the chair facing the couch.

"Thought you might want to talk," she said, shrugging slightly.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Sure you are," she said, a slight smile playing on her lips. It drove him crazy to know that she knew him so well, even after six months.

"I missed you today," he finally said, his eyes looking down at the beer bottle in his hands.

"I know," she said softly. He heard her shift on the couch, hugging her knee to her chest.

"You know, I never understand why you left," he said, his eyes glancing up at her. Her light brown hair was down around her shoulders, little makeup was on her face. She wore a soft red sweater and jeans, looking relaxed as she hugged her knee to her chest. It was one of his favorite looks on her; soft and natural.

"I left for all the same reasons that I could never make you stay," she replied, her tone soft and even. He didn't ask what she meant by her comment. He already knew.

"You're the one that left me," he said, "Not the other way around, just so you know." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, no matter how hard he tried. Six months and it still hurt just as much as the first day she had been gone.

"I know. I'm sorry," she said, her eyes not leaving him for an instant.

"Everyone misses you," he said, smirking, "Why don't you go visit them?" He was trying to do anything to keep from admitting how he really felt. How torn up he was inside.

"They don't need me," she replied.

"Yeah, well I don't either," he said, getting up to throw the beer bottle away.

"Then why do you keep talking to me," she asked, not moving from the couch.

"Because…damn it Liv, I love you," he said, returning to the living room, where she sat, her soft eyes still following his movements.

"I love you too," she said, "But, you've always known that."

"You never said it." He clenched his fists as he looked up at her. He never understood why her face was so calm, how she managed to keep her words so smooth and even. She was always like this when they talked, him raging on against the world, and her watching him calmly, telling him everything he already knew, but needed to hear anyways.

"Never needed to." The apartment fell in silence as her words hung in the air.

"Will there ever be a day that you don't come and visit me," he asked softly.

"Maybe," she said, shrugging. "Do you want me to stop?"

He paused for a moment, thinking. "I don't know what I want," he said, looking up at her. She nodded, still watching him from the couch.

"I miss you," he said.

"I know," she said, "I miss you too."

Before he could speak again, a knock on the door startled him and he turned to face Olivia, but she was gone, leaving no trace that she had ever been there, except for the words that he could still hear in his head.

He got up and answered the door, smiling when he saw Maureen on the other side. "Hey," she said cheerfully, "Is someone here? I thought I heard you talking to someone."

"No," he said, "I was just talking to a friend on the phone."

"Oh," she said, "I was in the area. Wanna have dinner with your favorite daughter?" It lightened his mood to see her smiling and cheerful.

"Of course," he said, reaching for his coat. He looked at the couch as he shrugged it on, then followed Maureen out the door, leaving his memory of _her_ behind.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sooo, after some good reviews, I decided to continue it. I left the first chapter kind of vague to see what people would think. I think this chapter'll give you a better idea of what's going on. Some details will fill in as the story develops. Let me know what you think. Thanks for the great reviews so far! Keep 'em coming!

"I saw her again, last night." Elliot's words hung in the air of the quiet office. The only constant sounds were those of the cars on the street below and the soft ticking of the clock on Huang's wall.

"What did you talk to her about," Huang asked, his voice calm and smooth. It drove Elliot crazy.

"Nothing in particular. That I loved her and hated her for leaving me," he said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Does talking to her help," Huang asked.

"In some ways," Elliot said. "But I'm talking to thin air. Makes me think I'm going crazy, which doesn't help."

"Elliot, you and Olivia had a deep connection. It's natural to feel like you're talking to her," Huang explained. "You didn't get to say goodbye to her did you?"

"No," Elliot said, looking down at his hands, "My daughter heard me talking to her…to myself last night. God knows that she already thinks I'm near a nervous breakdown." He stood up, rubbing hispalms together, wanting to hit something. His eyes darted around the spartan office, the colors supposed to make him calm. They did nothing but anger him even more.

"Do you think you're near a nervous breakdown," Huang asked.

"I don't know," he replied. He laughed, mostly to himself as he thought of his conversation the night before.

"What is it," Huang asked, hearing the sardonic laugh.

"She asked me last night if I wanted to stop seeing her," he said, "I told her I didn't know what I wanted."

"She's not really there. It was a part of your consciousness asking you that," Huang stated.

"Don't you think I know that," Elliot asked, turning to him. The doctor could see anger in the detective's blue eyes. It flashed at him like lightening. "I saw her body. I know that's not her that I'm talking to, but it doesn't make it any less real." He clenched his fists again, looking for something to hit; make the pain he felt inside all the more physical. "It's been six months and I still can't forget the way she looked and how much it hurt."

"You loved her, Elliot and you're not the only one that feels the pain from her being gone. You said yourself that you didn't get to say goodbye to her," Huang said. "Maybe this is your mind's way of letting go of her. Have you talked to Munch or Fin about it?"

"They're not exactly the hold hands and tell each other our feelings kind of guys," he said, sitting back down on the couch. Huang watched the detective quietly. He knew he was still sorting through the emotions that were rolling through him. "I just…I'm afraid that I'm beginning to forget her. You know? I used to know what every look on her face meant, and how her perfume smelt. I spent seven years with her. I shouldn't be able to forget that in only six months."

"You won't forget her," Huang said, "Over time, details like how she smelt or how she used to look at you will fade, but you will never forget her." Silence fell between them as Elliot studied his hands.

"I told her I loved her," he said, breaking the silence.

"Her ghost? Or when she was alive," Huang asked.

"Her ghost," Elliot replied. "My delusion…or whatever it is. I never told her in real life. I never needed to." He remembered her words from the night before with a soft smile. "God, I miss her." He ran his hands over his face and through his short hair.

"Everyone does," Huang said. The clock chimed softly and Elliot stood up, leaving the office without saying goodbye. Huang watched him leave. He knew he would be back, if nothing else, than to reassure himself that he wasn't going crazy.


	3. Chapter 3

"Elliot, I need to talk to you for a minute," Cragen said, calling to the detective from his office. Elliot groaned and walked over to his office, noticing the box that sat in the empty chair in front of his desk. He knew what it was for without the captain even having to tell him. "Your new partner arrives tomorrow morning. I need you to clean out the desk." He didn't call it Olivia's desk. It wasn't hers anymore, but in a way, it would always be hers.

Elliot nodded, grabbing the box and walking out of the office. "Yo man, I can do that for you," Fin said, noticing Elliot and the box.

"I got it," Elliot said. He had been dreading this since her death. It would force him to actually face the fact that she was gone. He pulled out the top drawer and without looking, dumped everything in the box. He did the same with the rest of the drawers, pretending not to notice the few pictures, scraps of paper, pens, lotion that was quickly filling the empty box. He didn't want to face anything that would remind him of her at work. He knew he would lose it and for some reason, he felt like he needed to be stronger than the others.

He shut the lid on the box and slid it next to his desk. Munch and Fin noticed his determination quietly. They both knew the box would be going home with him that night.

He sat on his couch, the box in front of him on the table, a half finished beer in his hand. A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts and as he stood up to answer it, he threw another glance at the box. He opened the door and saw Maureen on the other side. "Hey Dad," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "How's it going?"

"Good," he said, glad to see her, "What're you doing here?"

"Just wanted to stop by, see how you were doing," she said, heading to the fridge for a coke.

"Mom asked you to stop by, didn't she," he said, sitting back down on the couch.

"She's worried about you," she replied, sitting at the opposite end, "We all are." The smile slowly slid off her face as she saw the box sitting on the table. "What's in the box?"

"I cleaned out the desk today," he said, "I brought it home to go through it."

"Maybe it'll do you some good," she said, her eyes looking up at her father's.

"Maybe," he said. Something in his voice couldn't quite convince her the same. "You were talking to her other day, weren't you, before I stopped by." Her voice was so soft that he could barely hear what she said.

"Yeah," he said, "Huang thinks that maybe it'll help." He got up and threw the bottle in the trash, reaching in the fridge for a bottle of water. He wanted another beer, but didn't want to get drunk in front of his oldest daughter.

"I'm glad you're seeing Huang. She'd be happy for you," Maureen said. Elliot shrugged, dropping back down on the couch. "Dad, it's natural for you to miss her. We all knew how much you loved her."

"I hope you never know what it feels like to lose someone you love," he said, looking over at her. He saw sadness in her blue eyes, knowing that she already had.

"You can't stop that from happening," she said.

"No, but I can try," he said. "How's school going?" She noticed his attempt to change the subject and let it happen. He would talk to her about Olivia when he was ready to.

"Good," she said, "I was on my way to the library when I thought I'd stop by. I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with us Saturday. Mom's…got a date and it's just us kids."

"That'd be great," he said, cheering up, "I can swing by and get everyone." He knew Kathy was dating other men, so it didn't bother him to hear that.

"Okay," she said, "See you Saturday around six?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Alright," she said, standing up, "I've gotta get to the library. Paper due tomorrow."

"Good luck," he said, hugging her, "Thanks, for stopping by. Tell everyone I love them."

"I will," she said. "See you on Saturday." She kissed him gently on the cheek and left, leaving him alone with only his memories to keep him company.

With a sigh, he turned back to the box and sat down, pulling the lid off the box. He knew she had been meaning to clean out her desk, but the cases had kept on coming and she had never gotten around to it. He reached down and pulled out a picture, seeing that it was of them at a Christmas party last year. Her hair had grown out and her eyes were bright in the picture. They had gone home together that night. Their relationship had changed that night. Everything had changed that night.

He set it aside carefully and reached in, pulling out a sweater she kept on the back of her chair sometimes when it got cold. Her scent still clung to it.

"You gave me that sweater." He looked up and saw her sitting in the chair, her knee pulled to her chest. She wore the same clothes she had worn the last time she visited. Always the same clothes.

"I know," he said, leaning against the cushions. "Your birthday, two years ago."

"You know I hate pink," she said.

"You know I like the color on you," he replied.

"I'm sorry you had to do that," she said, motioning to the box.

"Captain thought it might be a good idea," he said. She nodded, her eyes drifting down to the box. "I get a new partner tomorrow."

"Maybe that'll help you move on," she said.

"They won't be like you," he said. She just nodded and he knew that in life, she would have had some smart crackto sayback at him, but this wasn't in life for her.

"I'm sorry I left you," she said softly.

"You weren't the one that could make that choice and I'm sorry that I'm still angry at you for leaving," he said. He sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair."I still have nightmares, you know."

"I know," she said. "You been seeing Huang?"

"He thinks me talking to you is a good thing," he said with a half laugh. "Makes me think I'm going crazy. He thinks it gives me a chance to say goodbye"

"Wouldn't be the first time he's thought you were going crazy," she said. Silence fell between them as he rubbed his thumb along the sweater in his hands. "El, tell me what happened…that night."

"You know what happened," he said. "Please don't make me tell you." He finished the beer and set it on the table, his eyes looking back up to meet hers.

"Tell me," she said, moving over to sit across from him on the couch. She didn't make a sound as she walked, the couch not even moving as she sat down.

"We were on a stakeout. The perps showed up and we split up, me chasing one down an alley. You ran after the other one, into the building," he said. His voice was cold and mechanical sounding. He'd had to recount her death so many times that it just came out automatic, void of any emotion that might show the devstation he felt on the inside. "I don't know what exactly happened. I heard a loud explosion and when I got there, you, the perp, andhalf the building car were on fire. They told me you'd been shot, then the perp set fire to everything. I tried to go in and save you, but some officer grabbed me. You were identified by your necklace and badge." Tears filled his eyes as he saw her across from him, her skin tan and hair falling over her shoulders. He would give anything to be able and touch her, if nothing more than to be able and erase the memories he had of her charred body.

"Elliot, there are no goodbyes between us," she said, "You know that. We promised it to each other that night." He nodded, his eyes not leaving her form.

"I know," he said, "I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you."

"You were doing your job," she said.

"I'm tried of my job taking everything from me," he said through clenched teeth. "And I still should have been there to protect you."

"Then where would you be? What would have happened to your kids?"

"They have Kathy," he said. "And maybe I wouldn't have to live through this hell."

"But, they need you," she said softly. "You still have a life. Don't spend the rest of it remembering me."

"Huang said you'd never really leave me," he said.

"I won't," she said.

"So, does this mean that I'll still be seeing you," he asked.

"For as long as you need me," she said.

"I will always need you," he said, looking down at his hands. When he looked back, the space she had been in was empty. He sighed and finished off the water bottle before going to the fridge for a cold slice of pizza and another beer.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! It's helped me see where this story should be going. Keep reading!

"Daddy," Lizzie said, throwing her arms around her father as he walked through the threshold of the house.

"Hey kiddo," he said, hugging her tight, lifting her off the ground slightly. "I've missed you." He set her back down on the ground, sadly relinquishing his touch with her. It was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

"I miss you too," she said, "Mo's almost done with dinner." He followed her to the kitchen and observed his daughter's cooking, setting the table, doing the normal things of life.

"She cooked? I was going to take you guys out," he said, walking over to Kathleen.

"Hey Dad," Kathleen said, looking over her shoulder. She was cutting carrots for the salad.

"Hey sweetheart," he said, kissing her cheek. "What's cookin'?"

"Lasagna," Maureen said, smiling up at him, "Glad you could make it."

"Me too," he said, hugging her tight. "How'd you do on that paper?"

"Alright," she said, shrugging, "I'll get my grade Monday."

"Let me know how you do," he said, squeezing her shoulder.

"I will," she replied, "Dickie's upstairs, probably messing around with some video game."

"I'll go get him for dinner," he said, patting her shoulder. She smiled and nodded, watching him go.

He knocked on Dickie's door, pushing it open slightly. "What'cha playin," Elliot asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Silent Hill," he said, his eyes never leaving the screen, "When'd you get here?"

"Few minutes ago," he replied, "Dinner's ready."

"In a minute," he said. Elliot watched as his son shot what looked like amonster on the screen. He worked day and night to save his children from the horror his sonenjoyed playing out on the screen.

"How 'bout now? I'm hungry," Elliot said, standing up.

"Okay," the teen replied, shutting the game off. "How's it been going?" He pushed himself up off the floor and turned to face his father.

"Not bad," he said. He didn't miss the slight raise in his son's eyebrow. "Really."

"What's for dinner," Dickie asked, heading down the stairs.

"Lasagna," he said, "And your sister cooked, so be nice."

"Yeah,yeah," he said, rolling his eyes. Elliot rolled his eyes and hit his son upside the head playfully before sliding an arm around his shoulders and guiding him down the stairs.

"So, Dad, how've you been," Kathleen asked, spooning lasagna on her plate.

"Good," he said, "I've been good." He didn't miss the silence that followed his statement, nor the looks they gave each other. "Look, I know…I haven't been myself lately."

"You don't need to explain it to us," Maureen said.

"Yes, I do," he said, looking each of them in the eye, "I lost not only my partner, but my best friend six months ago and it's just…it's going to take some time for me to get over that."

"We all miss her," Lizzie said softly. Dickie's eyes travelled over to his sister. He remained silent. He never knew what to think when it came to his dad and his partner. He knew that he would never know what to say.

"Did you love her," Kathleen asked. Her voice came out harsher than he hoped she intended. When the divorce had happened, she had been the one it hit the hardest. He could see that she was prepared for the answer. She had grown up a lot since the divorce. More than he wanted to admit to himself.

"Yeah," he said, "I still do." The kids nodded mutely and continued to eat. They didn't know what to say. Lik Dickie, they never had known what to say when it came to their father and Olivia. For all of them, nothing had changed since Olivia's death, yet everything had at the same time.

His children were older and had changed their feelings for their father's partner. But for Elliot, time had seemed to stop the instant he had seen those flames, saw her charred remains and now, all of a sudden, it was like things were in fast forward. It was summer. The twins were starting high school soon. Maureen was graduating college in the winter. Kathleen was looking at colleges. And Kathy had moved on with her life. He was the only one whose life had been stuck on pause.

"Thanks for coming," Maureen said, hugging her father as she walked him to the door.

"Anytime," he said, "If you need anything, let me know."

"I will," she said. She crossed her arms as he opened the door, surprised to see Kathy on the other side, having just been dropped off by her date. She saw the look exchanged between her parents and quietly walked off, leaving them to deal with the past and the present.

"Hey," Kathy said, a surprised look on her face, "I thought you'd be gone by now."

"Just finished dinner," he said, "How was your date?"

"Alright," she said with a shrug, "Maureen cook?" She didn't want to dwell on the fact that she had moved on. It'd just make everything all the more worse.

"Yeah," he said, "She's gotten pretty good."

"Yeah," she said, "She has." An uncomfortable silence fell between them. He studied her quietly, noticing the slight tan she had. Her hair had grown out, reminding him of when they first met.

"You look good," he said softly.

"You look like hell," she replied, her voice just as soft. She didn't want to say it, but she felt that someone needed to. He'd lost weight, his skin pale and dark bags hung under his eyes. The brightness that had once filled his eyes had dimmed. What hurt most was that she didn't need to ask why. "You holding up okay?"

"I'm getting there," he said truthfully. "I've been talking to Huang."

"Maureen said she heard you talking to yourself," she said softly. "Doesn't sound like you're 'getting there'." She hadn't planned on having this conversation with him. She'd seen him a few times after the funeral, but somehow, the conversation never gravitated towards Olivia. She didn't know if it was because she never came up, or if he never wanted the subject ofher to come up.

"I deal with it in my own way," he said, avoiding her gaze. He was growing tired of people asking him how he was doing. He didn't want to lose his patience with his ex-wife. They had worked hard to get to where they were.

She nodded silently, seeing the edges of anger in his blue eyes. "Anyways, I better make sure the twins are in bed," she said, moving towards the threshold of the door.

"Yeah," he said, "It was good to see you."

"You too," she said. He walked past her, barely even pausing to kiss her gently on the cheek before heading out the door. She watched with concerned eyes as he left. It killed her to know that he had fallen in love with another woman. A woman she had rivaled with more many years before giving in to the inevitable. But, what absolutely destroyed her that the woman that was now dead was more alive to him than she would ever be.


	5. Chapter 5

He stumbled into his apartment, drunk from the bar he had stopped by after work. He pulled off his wet overcoat and dropped it on the floor, not even bothering to hang it up. Water dripped off his pants and he stripped, leaving everything in the doorway, save for his boxers, undershirt and socks.

"Happy Anniversary," he heard her say. He looked up and saw her figure softly highlighted by the lamp he had left on that morning.

"Nothin' happy about it," he said, stumbling towards the couch. She sat in the chair again and he knew she was watching him. She always did that when she was trying to figure out what he was really thinking.

"I see you celebrated without me." They had always gone to a bar, The Heights, to celebrate their anniversary of working together. He wasn't sure when it had started, but it was something he had looked forward to every year. This was the first year he had dreaded it. It would have been their eighth.

"Wasn't by choice," he muttered, pulling off his socks and pulling the blanket over him.

"How was dinner with your kids," she asked, curling her legs up under her.

"Fine," he said, his blue eyes clouded as he looked at her, "Maureen's done in December and Kathleen's been accepted to Columbia. They think I'm going crazy."

"Why is that," she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"You tell me," he said with a raised eyebrow. "Kathy's dating some new guy."

"Good for her."

"I guess."

"You miss her?"

"Sometimes," he said, pulling the blanket closer to him. He caught a hint of her perfume. The humidity and wetness of his form seemed to bring out of the soft material.

"You should drink some water," she said, "It'll help you feel better in the morning."

"I don't need you to mother me," he said, getting up and stumbling to the kitchen.

"I don't need you to dwell on me," she shot back. "I'm not worth it."

"Jesus, even your ghost feels unworthy," he shouted, returning from the kitchen, "Christ Olivia, you were born the child of a rapist and you didn't have a choice. You died at the hands of a criminal and you didn't have a choice. But somewhere in between those two you managed to save more lives than I can count and earn the love and respect of everyone you worked with, so stop with the pity party already! It didn't work while you were alive and it sure as hell won't work because you're dead!" He slammed his hand against the wall, hearing bits of plaster hit the floor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The stinging of his palm hit him, calming him in a way that only physical pain could these days.

"Then stop with your own pity party," she said back. She didn't shout. He knew she never did when she was really mad. She shouted when she was angry or frustrated, but when she talked in a deadly calm voice, he knew she was really, truly mad. It scared him that his mind caused this illusion of her to be the same way. He had forgotten the amount of times he wanted her to shout at him when he yelled at her. The amount of times he wanted her to hit him, thrash back at him, just so he could see what she was really feeling. The hard years of her life had taught her how to keep her emotions a secret and that's what had truly scared him.

"How's your new partner," she asked, changing the subject.

"Some hotshot looking to make a name for himself," he said, sitting back down on the couch. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt guilty that he had yelled at her. But then, she really wasn't there, so it didn't help to know he'd only been yelling at her ghost. "If his mouth doesn't kill him, I sure as hell will."

"No you won't," she said. He knew she was right, but God did he think about it sometimes.

"Do you remember that movie we watched together? Something of the mind," he said. His eyes were beginning to droop and the adrenaline from his anger was beginning to run its course through his tired and worn out body.

"Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," she said. He remembered the night they had watched it. It was a night like tonight, cool and rainy, a cold front having come through. They sat on his couch, curled up together. When he closed his eyes, he could remember her face as she watched the movie, the feel of her hair against his lips as he brushed kisses against her hair occasionally. He hadn't wanted to watch the movie, but she insisted. He agreed soon enough, because he knew she wanted to watch it because it meant spending time with him. They had fallen asleep on the couch that night, the same couch he sat on now. Tears stung his tired eyes and he blinked them away. If he closed his eyes and concentrated enough, he could still smell her perfume on the pillows. The smell was fading quickly, though.

"Sometimes, I wish that I could have that procedure done," he said softly, "You know, to erase the memory of you because it'd make it all so much easier. I wouldn't have to remember you and I'd be able to live my life in the present, never knowing that I ever even knew you or loved you."

"Would you really erase me," she asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper in the darkness of his apartment. "You said yourself that you could never forget me."

"I know," he said, "And that's what makes everything so damn hard." He turned his back to her and closed his eyes, praying he would fall asleep without any dreams.

That night, he had gone to the bar to remember and forget her all at the same time. He had hoped that he could drink enough to be able and sleep without dreaming about her, because in his dreams, he could touch her, kiss her, hold her and remember what it felt like to feel something. But when he woke up every morning, reality would come crashing down and he would still be here, and she would still be gone.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Let me know what you think of this chapter. I'd debating on where it should go from here...let me know where you think this story should head. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Cragen walked through the doors and into the SVU office. Drab early morningdaylightfiltered in through the small windows,a damp smell seeming to cling to everything. He saw a light on atone of the desks and walked over to see Elliot flipping through a file. He didn'tneed to ask why file it was."How long have you been here," he asked, stopping beside the desk.

"An hour or so," he replied. He glanced up and saw the look on the captain's face and diverted his eyes once more.He was tired of the looks of pity and concern people seemed to have permanently imprinted on their face when they looked at him.

"It's not even six," the captain said, glancing at the clock.

"Couldn't sleep." He flipped to the next page and began to look it over.

"You have to let her go," Cragen said softly. "It's been eight months."

"Nine, in two days," he replied automatically.

"She wouldn't want you to be moping around, losing sleep over her," he said.

"Do you think I like dreaming about her? Captain, enight, I see her on fire, the flames burning her skin and hair, taking everything that made her _her_ away and if you someone whocan tell me how to stop feeling anything for her and how to stop remembering what happened, then I'm open to it," he said, pushing himself away from desk. He paced between the two desks, his eyes focused on the floor, but Cragen knew he really wasn't seeing anything.

"I just…she was everything to me, you know? My kids are all grown up. Kathy's practically engaged to another guy. Having a future with Olivia was the only thing I had to look forward to. Fin…Munch, they've moved on. Even you've moved on. But... I can't and I don't know why." He ran his hands through his hair as his voice faded to a whisper. Cragen had never seen a man look so broken before.

"Every day, I see her, think of her. I see the leaves turning red and think of how she loved autumn. I go into a coffee shop and remember that her favorite drink was a light café mocha with a shot of raspberry, but always told the guys she liked her coffee black. She thought it made her to much of a girl. Hell, I think Huang's even given up on me because all I think about is her and why she was the one to die and not me. I think about that day all the time. Could I have done something different? What if I had been the one to go after that guy and not her?" He paused, waiting for the captain to speak, but he never did. He just stood their watching the ranting of a man so lost in grief that he may never find his way back. He paused, cupping his hand over his mouth as he thought. "Maybe I just need to leave, get a way for a while or never come back. Because as long as I'm here, I will never be able to get away from the memory of who she was, what she was." His words had come out soft, but Cragen knew this was something he had been thinking about.

Cragen had known love once in his life, but it was nothing compared to this. He knew Elliot and Olivia hadfinally come together before her death. He knew that Elliot would have given anything for Olivia to be alive and it killed him to know that he lost not one, but two detectives that day. He had thought long and hard about what he would do if it came to this and he just hoped he didn't regret it.

"Elliot, maybe switching to another department wouldn't be a bad idea," Cragen said, "There's too much of her here to allow you to move on. You could take a few days off and start off in a new division come Monday. Narcotics has been looking for a new guy for a few days now."

Elliot nodded, sitting back down at his desk. A picture of them at a bar together smiled back at him. "Think it over and if that's what you want, just let me know," Cragen said. "We'll make whatever changes need to be made." He patted the man on the shoulder and headed for his office, his heart heavy with the pain he felt for the detective.

He shut the door behind him and sat down at his desk, rubbing his face. The phone rang, startling himbefore he picked it up. "Captain Cragen, this is Detective Andrew Hayes at the two-oh. I wanted to let you know that we found something in regards to the case about your detective," Hayes said. "We've been hot on his trail since it happened."

"And we appreciate that. What've you got," he asked, scooting forward to the edge of his chair, a pen in hand.

"We found that bastard that got away that night. The one Detective Stabler had been chasing."

Cragen let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and looked up to see Elliot still sitting at his desk. He hadn't moved since their conversation.

"I'll be there as soon as possible," he said, hanging up the phone. He slid his jacket back on and walked out.

"Where're you goin," Elliot asked, finally moving from his chair.

"Gotta check up on something," he said, "I'll be back later."

Elliot nodded, sitting back down, then stood back up and put his jacket on. He walked out the station door, intent on forgetting her once and for all.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Sorry it's been so long...couldn't figure out how to write this chapter. Let me know what you think...next update won't take so long :)

Phones rang, doors slammed, perps shouted; it was a normal day in the SVU department. Elliot worked at his desk, having finished a major case he had been working on that morning.

He didn't hear the door to the department open, it blended in with the every day noise. He didn't pay attention when a woman in a long khaki jacket and glasses asked to speak to Captain Cragen. He didn't look up when the woman passed by his desk. But he did stop mid-sented on his report when he smelled her perfume.

She had always reminded him of gardenias, a sweet, but musky scent that he could detect anywhere. The year apart still hadn't been enough to keep him from looking up whenever he smelled it. It was a common enough perfume. But on her, it had taken on a unique scent. It was something he could never forget. It haunted his dreams and everywhere he went.

He glanced up and looked around, but only saw the everyday mess that made up the SVU. Perps, cops, phones ringing- everything that made the place home to him, and at one time, her. In his mind, he knew the perfume had come from a cop, or maybe a perp. But in his heart, he knew different.

He heard the door to the Captain's office open and he turned to see Cragen step out and motion for him to follow. Elliot got up from his desk and followed him to an interrogation room.

"What's going on," Elliot asked, standing against the wall, his arms crossed.

"There's someone here that wants to talk to you," Cragen said. He studied the detective before, noticing not for the first time, the dark circles under his eyes, the weight he lost, but had caused his shoulders to sag from the weight he constantly bore. He no longer stood strong. He looked somehow broken instead.

"Does it have something to do with a case," he asked, straightening up.

"Kind of," Cragen said, "It has to do with Olivia's case."

At his words, Elliot's face went slack, his arms falling to his side. "Did you…" His voice trailed off. He didn't know what to say. A year had gone by. They hadn't found anything. If they had found the other perp that had been in the alley that night, he'd finally be able to sleep, knowing they had done her justice.

"We caught him this morning," Cragen said softly. "His trial's in a few days."

"I'll testify, if you need me too," Elliot said, straightening up.

"He confessed," Cragen said, "Casey will contact you, if she needs anything."

"Then who is here to see me," he asked, confused. If the perp that had killed Olivia was in jail and Casey didn't need him, he didn't understand who would be here, at the station.

"They'll have to explain that to you," Cragen said, "Stay here and I'll bring them in." Elliot nodded silently, still not sure of what to say. Olivia's killer had been caught. One year of searching, thinking, worrying had gone by, and now it was over.

He heard the soft click of heels on the floor and was about to turn, when the scent of gardenias suddenly overwhelmed it. She watched silently as his back stiffened and he turned, his blue eyes automatically locking with hers. It was moments before either was able to speak. "I didn't think you would remember," she said softly.

"Did you really think I could forget," he said, his voice weak and cracking. She could see the toll her death had taken on him, it'd only been a year, but it looked like it'd taken a lot more outof him. In a way, she wished that she didn't have to see him like this. It'd be easier to remember the strong man she had known before her 'death'.

"You must be wondering what happened," she said, starting to walk towards him. He took a step back, the back of his legs hitting the cold metal table. He didn't know what to say. A year of wondering what it'd be like to have her back, of how he'd never let her go again, of thinking what he'd say to her, and now here he stood, speechless, his mind not believing what he was seeing with his own two eyes.

"I'm alive, Elliot," she said, reaching out to touch him. He yanked away quickly, like her touch might hurt him. He knew it'd just make this dream all the more real and at the moment, he was desperate to wake up.

"Not to me," he said, finally finding the strength to push himself off the table and walk out of the room.

Before she could react or call his name, he was gone. She walked into the office and saw him walking out the door and into the pouring down rain. She knew coming back would be hard. She just didn't know how hard it be for both of them.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks for all of the great reviews! Here's another chapter...just couldn't keep the thoughts inside. This one's got one bad word and a whole lotta of anger/angst. Hope you like it! Keep on reviewing!

"He took your death hard." Olivia looked at the psychologist, a knowing look already on her face.

"He's mad at me," she said, pushing herself off the couch and rubbing her hands together as she walked over to the large window and leaned against the frame. A light mist fell over the city, tingeing everything a dull grey color and permeating a coldness that seemed to seep into the very bones of the passerby's on the street.

"He's not mad at you," Huang said, "He just doesn't know what to think right now." He too had been shocked when she arrived at his office, requesting a visit with him. Cragen had called, to tell him, but he hadn't believed it until he saw her for himself. "He had just started to accept the fact that you were gone. He just needs some time to think things through."

"Time is something we've never really had," she said softly. The truth was at one point, they'd had a a lot of time. Eight years of it. But both had been so intent on hurting the other to hide every emotion they felt that time had slipped away from both of them and before they knew it, eight years together and turned them into strangers.

"Did you meet someone else while you were away," Huang asked.

"I thought I had," she admitted.

"It sounds like you need some time yourself," Huang said truthfully. She nodded and looked towards him before gathering her purse, slipping her jacket out and thanking him for his time.

It was long past dark when he finally made it home, shaking off his jacket before hanging it up, carefully taking his shoes off and putting them by the door to dry off. It had taken several months, but she had finally trained him to do that.

He wasn't surprised to see her sitting on the couch, facing him when he walked into the living room. She was sitting on the couch, waiting for him. A shiver ran down his spine when he remembered how many times he had picture like that before. This time, it was different. Her hair was long, but back to its original dark brown color. She had lost some weight and her eyes permeated the same sadness that he felt in his heart. The same shadows that haunted his face haunted hers.

Their eyes connected for a moment, and then he began to move around the apartment, grabbing a beer from the fridge, checking the mail, do anything and everything to avoid talking to her, facing her. She would wait for him to talk. She knew he needed to start this conversation. But as the silence began to stretch, she wondered if he'd ever be ready for it. Finally, he sat down on the couch, unable to stand the silence that filled the voids of the room.

"Where did you go," he asked, determined to keep his voice strong and level, void of all emotion.

"Maine," she replied, "A small town near the border."

He nodded and took a sip of his beer, his eyes focused on the metallic label that surrounded the brown glass. "Did you ever think of us," he asked.

"Everyday." Her words hung in the air and yet, he felt his heart fall.

"Was there someone else?" He felt his heart pound as he waited for her answer. Having her alive when he thought she had been dead had been hard. But, knowing that she was alive and in love with someone else would destroy him. He laughed bitterly at something Munch had said that day. There were fates worse than death. He had never known that to be truer than now.

"There was, once," she said truthfully. She knew she would need to tell him everything, if they had any hope of moving forward, instead of backwards.

"Did you fuck him too," he asked, standing up to throw the bottle away.

"Elliot, that's not fair," she said, standing up from the couch.

"That's not fair," he stated, walking out of the kitchen. His arms were crossed; his blue eyes the bright cerulean color they turned when he was angry. Truly angry. "That's not fair? I have spent the last year thinking you were dead! Relieving every moment of what happened that night, thinking what could I have done to save you! And you think me being angry at you sleeping with someone else while I have been here, living with the ghost of you, isn't fair?"

"I didn't have a choice," she said, crossing her arms and meeting his gaze dead on. She was determined to state her side of this mess. "Don't you think I wanted to send a letter or call or e-mail? Don't you think I spent every night of the past year thinking about that night too? I loved you, Elliot. And I still do." Tears filled her eyes as her face turned red. A year apart and they were stilled determined to tear at each other until nothing was left.

"So you went and screwed around with another guy," he said, his voice a deadly calm. That's when she knew that she had hurt him. Really hurt him. She had never known Elliot's voice to be calm when he was angry.

She nodded, her lip trembling as tears fell down her face. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I didn't want to hurt you."

"You did that the moment you separated from me in that alley," he said, his arms falling to his sides. "Because right now, I would rather live with the thought of you being dead, then alive and well, in someone else's arms." His words rung through the air, stabbing at her heart. It surprised her to know that what hurt the most was that she knew the words weren't said out of anger, but out of truth. Without saying another word, she grabbed her coat and walked out the door, not even having the energy to slam it.

Elliot watched her leave and sank on the couch, the tears he had been fighting finally falling down his face. He heard the door softly click shut and closed his eyes. He had fought with her ghost many times over the course of the long year. But not once, had anything felt more real than hearing the soft whisper of the door shutting as she left. A year apart hadn't taught them anything. A year of wishing, hoping, praying and weak attempts to heal the gaping wounds that had been left in their relationship had done nothing but set them back to where they'd been before she left.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Okay, here it is. Might be continued...I'd like to see it go further. Anyways, let me know what you think. Thank you so much for reading this story!

He found her in the park, sitting on the bench they had always come to during work, or on the weekends whenever they had just wanted to be together. Two days had passed since their argument at the apartment. She hadn't come to work and he didn't know where she was staying. But somehow, in a city as large as New York, he knew where to find her. A year apart hadn't changed that.

The bench dipped as he sat down, but she didn't seem to acknowledge him. She sat with her arms on her knees, her hands clasped together and eyes focused on the ground. "Why do we keep doing this to each other," he finally asked softly.

"Because it's easier than admitting what we feel," she said just as softly.

"Did it mean anything," he asked. He was half afraid of her answer, but knew he could never rest until he had it.

"No," she said, "It was just something to fill the emptiness that I kept feeling." She finally sat up and leaned against the back of the bench, her gaze moving to the playground where children now played. It was a sunny autumn day, a golden glow filling the air. The leaves were changing colors and he knew this was her favorite kind of day.

"What did you miss the most about us," he asked.

"Days like this," she said truthfully. "Where we could sit and talk and just be normal. Not be chasing down some perp or worrying about the next victim or thinking about the horrors the day or night would bring. Where for once, we could just focus on what we wanted and work towards that. It's what kept me going."

"Cragen said you talked to Huang," he said. He didn't know why he changed the subject. He knew why she had talked to Huang. God knows he hadn't been the most approachable person since this had all started.

"I did. He told me that you needed time."

"We've never really had that."

"I thought the same thing," she said, "But the truth is that we had eight years and we did nothing more than become friends, then lovers, then try with everything in us to not let that love become anything more, because it scared us."

"Do you think it would have become more?" A red leaf fell from the tree above them onto his lap and he picked it up, twirling it between his fingers.

"I like to think it would have." A soft wind blew, rustling the leaves and stirring her hair. "I meant what I said. I still love you."

"Where have you been staying," he asked.

"Casey's. I didn't think I'd be too welcome at the apartment." The truth was it was _his_ apartment. She had unofficially moved in before her death and at one point, it had been _their_ apartment. But now, it didn't feel like theirs. It had gone back to being his and she couldn't bring herself to admit.

"You were and are always welcome," he said. He saw her look up and for the first time, saw the shadows disappear from her face.

He stood up and held his out hand for her. Slowly, tentatively, she reached out and took it, allowing him to pull her up off the bench. With slow movements, he pulled her into his arms, burying his nose in her hair. Tears sprung to his eyes as he smelled her familiar scent and felt her burying her face against his neck, knowing that was where she felt safest. "I still love you." He whispered it softly against her hair and felt her smile against his neck as he kissed her hair gently.

She pulled away and brushed a hand against his cheek, seeing the shadows leave his face. "What did you miss the most," she asked, content with his arms around her waist and hers around his, holding him close to her.

"Days like this," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. She smiled and gently pulled away, her hand sliding down to automatically intertwine with his. He smiled and they walked away from the park, leaving the ghost of the past behind them.

Alive from the first, Now I'm denied by the ghost of you- Howie Day


End file.
